


A Bene Placito (At One's Pleasure)

by bornof_sorrow (wintersfire)



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gladiators, Bottom Jared, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-18
Updated: 2015-09-18
Packaged: 2018-04-21 09:19:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4823573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wintersfire/pseuds/bornof_sorrow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jenu is the gladiator champion, he doesn't need another slave to pleasure him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Bene Placito (At One's Pleasure)

**Author's Note:**

> This is years old, I wanted it here from my lj. I was watching a lot of (Starz) Spartacus, hence the Spartacus-style dialogue.

Fandom: rps, J2 set in the world of Spartacus: Blood and Sand  
Pairing: Jenu/Jalfreth  
Rating: Nothing more than PWP.  
Warning: could be considered dub-con for both J's.  
Word Count: 2600  
Disclaimer: neither Jared nor Jensen belong to me, I have no idea if they like to play gladiators. The whole concept of Spartacus:B&S belongs to the people over at Starz and is not mine.

Summary: Jenu is the gladiator champion, he doesn't need another slave to pleasure him.

A/N 1: simple glossary at the end if it is helpful.  
A/N 2: written for dephigravity who requested J2 togas. There are no togas but it' s GLADIATORS instead. Also for dm_wyatt who gave me the notion in the first place.

This wouldn't have happened without glittery pink sparkles.

 

Jenu nodded to Doctore as he entered the ludus. “Greetings.”

Ludus slaves hurried to help him with his armor. Jenu stood patiently while they unbuckled and untied the leather van braces, pugnum, and manica from his arms. Then the lorica from his chest, and finally the ocrea from his shins before storing them again in the armarmentarium. No weapons or armor except the wooden rudis were allowed in or around the practice area without the explicit say so of Doctore.

The armor was ill-suited to the arena, of course, but Jenu had not been in the arena. He had been paraded as champion by Dominus and Domina for the delight of their distinguished guests in the hope of attracting even greater patronage for the ludus.

He had sparred and fought for show with Carnifex and the guests had been well pleased. Jenu was tired; his body still ached from his recent encounter in the arena, and although he remained undefeated as champion the injuries and bruises he'd received were considerable. Now, with only his subligaria wrapped around his hips, Jenu was ready to be bathed.

He signalled to Doctore that he would go to his cell and Doctore nodded to the guards who moved aside as he went in to the marginally cooler shade of the gloomy interior. The public rooms of the ludus were tile, stone and marble, as befit an honorable ludus of old name, but behind the iron gates age-smoothed clay brick, rough stone and wood were all.

Jenu went into his cell expecting the blessedly silent and homely Viri. She was well-named after the goddess for her presence was soothing and undemanding and she had served Jenu since he was champion. He lay on the table and rested his head on his arms, breathing deeply, feeling the adrenaline of the display sink down into his blood, replaced with calm.

He heard Viri at the door and mumbled. “Massage after Viri. I ache.” Viri said nothing as usual but he imagined her nod, eyes downcast and her quick hands preparing the oil. After a moment the oil was poured on his back, warm and generous slipping along the dip of his spine and into the divot of his back where it gathered to be spread. But when Jenu felt hands smear the cleansing oil across his skin he jerked and sprang up grabbing the slave by the throat. 

“Who are you?” The slave was huge, tall and powerful, his shoulders blocking the dim light from the open doorway. The slave held his hands up in surrender and peace and Jenu loosened his grip on his throat.

“Jalfreth.” The accent was thick and hard to understand. Jenu pulled back and slid off the table. He'd seen this one before. He was part of a new group of slaves, captured in the lands far to the north. They were all dark and tall with sinuous black tribal markings over their shoulders, arms and back. This one was the tallest. Yes, Jenu had noticed him.

He'd passed his challenges easily, but he was dangerous and unpredictable, nowhere near ready for the ring. They called him Jared. Like all of them, he was renamed, his past and self erased. Which didn't explain why he was here in Jenu's cell. Perhaps he thought to seek favor with the champion, but he'd have to earn his place like every other man. 

Jenu felt a jab of disappointment. Yes, he'd seen this one fight, little arena technique, but vicious and cunning. He was no man to grovel. Ill enough they were all captives. Jenu turned away. “Go. Send Viri.”

But Jared stood, sullen and immoveable. “You do not go?” Jenu looked at the slave who jerked his head up under the scrutiny and glared at him, rage in his eyes and limbs.

“Dominus ordered.” This time the slave did not look away, but slowly dragged his gaze over Jenu, lingering on his mouth before dropping to his bare chest and low subligaria. Jenu felt his cock stir at the look. He bristled. 

“Dominus? He made this order?” Jared nodded and stared back. “Then tell him my comfort does not need you. Give apologies.”

“No.”

Jenu felt his own rage rise, fire burning steadily through his limbs. His hands twitched for the gladius, but he did not need it. He could kill this slave bare handed.

“I do not wish it.” Jenu repeated. The slave shrugged and started to rub his oiled hands together, his rage hidden from his eyes now, but marked in his stiff shoulders and rigid stance. “Dominus ordered. Or beatings...”

“You fear a beating?” Jenu stopped his pacing and pushed Jared against the wall. He felt that disappointment again. This slave was no man: less than a man, a coward.

Jared roared in anger at that, and thrust both hands against Jenu's chest, sending him crashing into the far wall. He followed through with an attempt at his throat that Jenu parried easily. Jenu grabbed his arm and forced it up his back, holding the slave face to the wall. He struggled, but Jenu dug his knee into his hip, pinning him there. 

The slave turned his head, scraping his cheek and spat out,“Dana.”

Dana. Jenu remembered the beautiful house slave. She came with the Dark Men. He twisted Jared's arm harder, making him snarl against him. Jenu could smell the sweat on his skin and the scent of oil. The slave's muscles were bunched hard against the pain in his arm and the weight of Jenu against his back. Jenu stared as the black marks on his skin shifted with the play of muscle. 

“Ordered or kill Dana.” The words were spat out with bitter hatred. Jenu knew that feeling and pondered it as he absorbed the information. He felt his cock stir again as Jared's breathing remained heavy although Jenu had loosened his hold on his arm and it was no longer in danger of breaking. There was a deep seam of scar tissue emerging from the slave's underarm down his side. It was old and buckled, badly stitched. A battle scar. He thought of the number of markings on Jared's skin, much more than the other Dark Men. No coward then, this one. Good. Maybe one day he'd be a worthy opponent.

Jenu let go of his arm. Jared slowly turned, still leaning against the wall. They stared at each other for a moment, and Jared again dropped his eyes down to Jenu's lips. He pressed his finger against the soft flesh there and tipped back his head, his curious changeable eyes low lidded and watchful. Jenu considered the situation, knowing the determination of Dominus and the sly viciousness of Domina. He took a pace backwards and examined Jared, who was still and silent against the wall. 

He was a handsome man, lean and strong, his wide shoulders well-rounded with sharply defined muscle. His arms were impressive and he looked like he could lift an ox. Jenu enjoyed men and women, but women reminded him of his wife and his mind turned from those thoughts. Jenu let his eyes drop from Jared's unusual face to his throat and chest, the chest criss-crossed with the exotic tattoos of his tribe, slanting and curving against each other and around his arms. Suddenly Jenu mind saw them wrapped around his own, entwining them both. His eyes dropped further and the slave's cock filled the canvas cloth and tried to reach his belly, its line thick and long against his hips. 

Jenu leant in and bit at his jaw, making the dark man growl and thrust his hips against Jenu's. His cock was hard and huge and Jenu's mouth watered at the memory of his rage and violence in practice. His status was much greater than that of the slave. He was his to take.

Jenu stepped back and gestured to the amphora of oil. He'd applied oil in the usual way before the display. The oil helped protect the skin and could be scraped off afterwards. Jenu got back on to the table and pointed at the amphora and strigil before laying his arms flat as a headrest against the table.

After a moment Jenu heard Jared pick up the tools. Then he felt the strigil press firmly against the skin of his calf, scraping along the curve of the muscle, taking sweat and dirt from his skin in slow halting swipes. Jared's touch was firm and impersonal and Jenu relaxed into it, the rhythm building slowly as Jared became more practiced. Jenu could feel the strength in Jared, strength enough to snap a neck if he was allowed to.

Jared leant close to Jenu as he worked across his back. He could feel the brush of his skin against his own. He had missed the touch of a man. A man strong enough to please him. 

Jared pushed at his side and Jenu turned over, his stiff cock pressing out the canvas subligaria. Jenu ignored it and lay back waiting for Jared. This time Jared started with his arms, pressing the hair's on Jenu's forearms away from the skin, occasionally pinching, each stroke further sensitizing his skin. It reminded Jenu of how long he'd been alone. He'd performed at Dominas command for her bored rich friends, but that was no release for him, only for them.

He quelled the familiar hatred the thought of his owners brought, but he hid it as he had to and put it from his mind. He relaxed as Jared pushed and pulled at him, rough and steady. Used to physical damage and hardship, it was soothing enough to Jenu to be touched by the male hands he preferred. He had no taste for weak boys or blank slaves, but he liked to be with other men. Especially ones who were some match for him, strong and warlike, capable and determined. Despite this coerced situation they were equals of sorts, and their congress would have no disgrace for either. 

Jared was using the strigil against his shins and the deep bruising from the arena and Jenu ordered him, “Stop. Oil.” 

Jared put down the strigil and poured oil on his hands. Jenu unwrapped the cloth against his hips and dropped it to the ground, laying back down on his belly. Jared watched him, rubbing the oil around his fingers. He undid his own subligaria and started to massage fresh oil into Jenu's skin. He used his long fingers to dig into his stiff muscles, prodding at them until they gave up their tension, and Jenu sighed in pleasure with the near pain of the slaves hands on him. Jared reached Jenu's thighs in his massage and pushed his knees apart, baring Jenu's ass and balls to his touch. Jared slipped his oiled hands under Jenu's balls and rolled them in his, pulling them away from his body slightly and Jenu groaned aloud, drawing his knees further apart. Jared came around the table and pressed one large hand to Jenu's back, keeping his chest against the table. Then he used his other hand to spread Jenu's buttocks apart, dipped his head and traced across his hole with his tongue. Jenu twisted up, arching away from the table, but Jared kept him pinned and his reaction was ignored. 

Jared went on steadily licking, sucking, tongue dipping and pressing into Jenu. Jenu turned his head and watched Jared, long dark hair hiding his face with glimpses of his cock as he moved. Pleasure burst into flames in Jenu, shivering through his blood and bones. He wanted that mouth and those fingers beneath him, wanted to be inside this giant and know him, be able to remember how he'd felt on his cock when he fought him. 

“Enough.” Jared stepped back, his cock hard against his belly, standing out in pale relief against the dark cluster of curls at the base. Jenu snatched the amphora and gestured to Jared who held out his hands. Jenu poured more oil on them and pushed Jared back against the wall. “Prepare.”

And Jared did. He slumped back using the wall to support him as he widened his legs and slid his hand behind his balls. Jenu couldn't see exactly what he did, but he watched his face and body. He saw the growing tension in his limbs and heard the grunt of effort as he swore in some guttural language which sounded like a curse. The sound heated, crawling and low, making lust curl in Jenu's balls.

He was big, but Jenu wanted to watch him while he was fucked. Wanted to see his face and for them both to know that Jenu allowed this, didn't need it, would never ask for it, could live without it, would not seek it again.

Jenu pointed to the table and Jared pushed away from the wall to lay back on it. His knees drawn up, his feet flat on the edge, exposed to Jenu's eye. His position was one of submission and Jenu enjoyed the beauty of the form before him, but everything else about Jared – his posture, his strength and his determination told Jenu that he was not yet mastered. Would never allow it. That made Jenu's cock leak.

Jared looked down his long body, his shoulders arched up to see Jenu's. He shifted his hips wider, his hole soft and open, ready. Jenu dribbled oil on his cock and slid one hand under Jared, bringing his hips forward to the very edge as he pressed in with one long thorough push.

Gods he was tight and the warm, oiled constriction took his breath away. They both stilled, adjusting to the sensation, breathing heavily until Jenu started to move. He held his fingers around the base of his cock and controlled his breath until he was dragging out and pushing back in, each drag and push more exciting than the last and causing Jared's pelvis to press its own pulse of need to their dance.

Jenu grabbed Jared's hips hard and rocked into him, changing the angle until Jared started to swear those unknowable oaths and grabbed the edge of the table to give him more purchase against Jenu. They were both sweat covered and slippery with oil; the air between them was hot and dry, and Jenu knew there was more he could have.

He pinched one of Jared's nipples hard and raked his hand along his thigh, scoring a mark with his fingers, digging into the muscle, hurting him. Jared responded instantly, roaring and spitting curses at Jenu as he locked his legs around Jenu's hips and grabbed his ass. Jared thrust up against Jenu's driving cock and Jenu began to lose it, using all his strength and fury with Jared, who returned it like he wanted nothing better than to tear him limb from limb and leave him rent apart and bleeding. As Jenu came, deep and hard inside Jared, Jared rose up, grabbed Jenu by the back of the neck and his own cock by his other hand, jerking until he was grunting come all over Jenu's belly and his own. He flopped back on to the table and twisted his hips, pulling away from Jenu. Jenu staggered to the bed and dropped down. He gulped in a few breaths and rubbed his hand over his face.

When he looked up Jared had wrapped his loincloth around his hips and picked up his rough tunic. He was red, flushed and marked. Jenu was the same. They stared at each other for a moment and the glare Jared gave him was both insolent and dismissive. Jenu nearly rose to his feet but then Jared dropped his glance and simply walked out. 

Jenu watched the space where he had been then turned on his side and sought sleep.

The end.

Glossary  
Doctore – head slave in charge of gladiatorial training  
Dominus/Domina – Lord and Lady, master and mistress of the ludus  
Gladius, rudis – types of sword  
Ludus – gladiator training school. Based around a family, relied on rich patrons and popular champions to do well.  
Strigil – curved hand tool for scraping sweat and oil off skin  
Subligaria - loincloth


End file.
